


It's Your Move (Just Make It)

by bri_notthecheese



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (as always), First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Man's Land, Slow Dancing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bri_notthecheese/pseuds/bri_notthecheese
Summary: Valentine's Day in No Man's Land.And what on Earth could Ed getting chocolate for Oswald mean?
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 23
Kudos: 81





	It's Your Move (Just Make It)

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "MOVE" by Peking Duk

Oswald starts as Ed plops something down on his desk.

Separate from Ed’s main workspace, Oswald uses this one to help with the simpler tasks—taking something apart if Ed decides against its construction or tightening a line of screws to become part of something bigger. Whatever he needs, Oswald tries his best to be at his disposal, in addition to keeping him company and making sure he eats.

He’s taken Edward’s frustrations with his lack of help to heart. He would be a better friend.

A quick glance at the item reveals that it’s…chocolate?

“Ed?” Oswald spins around on his stool, holding the delicacy between his fingers. “What is this?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s chocolate.” Ed barely spares Oswald a glance as he returns to fiddling with whatever part of the submarine he’s working on today. “There is a label.”

“Yes, I—” Oswald contains his huff. “What I _meant_ was what is it for? Where did you even find it?”

“It’s for you. Obviously. I found it scavenging the other day.”

“…But why are you giving it to me?”

“Isn’t that the tradition?” Ed continues to work, a nonchalant air about him. After his breakthrough with the sonar, he’s been a lot less stressed and—dare Oswald say—happier? “If you don’t want it, I can save it for later.”

“No, I—thank you. Forgive me, but what ‘tradition’ are we talking about?”

“It’s February 14th.”

Oswald’s ears burn as he puts two and two together. It’s _Valentine’s Day_ , and Ed’s given him chocolate. Like he’s his—

_No._

Edward has evolved since his days as the GCPD’s terribly awkward and socially inept forensic tech, but Oswald knows he could still benefit from a lesson or two in social etiquette. And though this does seem to be an obvious blunder, Oswald can’t assume his intentions are anything but platonic.

After all, Oswald had given him gifts in the early days of their friendship. He supposes Edward did the same even further back with Mr. Leonard.

If anything, Oswald should be glad they’ve come this far after everything.

“Oh.”

Any other words seem to get stuck in his throat—his mouth completely dry. He desperately shoves back ancient and unwanted feelings, too _tired_ to deal with that hope again. Best they remain locked away in the small corners of his heart. He’s accepted their residency there, but he won’t ridiculously tend to them. Not again.

They continue to work in relative silence. The radio murmurs in the corner near Ed, but it’s not loud enough to be distracting. Oswald understands how uneasy Edward gets with complete silence.

And then Ed goes and breaks the quiet between them, too.

“I remember our first Valentine’s Day together.”

Oswald’s heart stutters. Valentine’s Day has never held much importance for him—why pay any mind to a holiday he never planned to celebrate, let alone thought was ridiculous? There was only a brief moment in time where his thoughts on the matter shifted. It was predictably during their era as mayor and chief of staff, but by now Oswald knows Ed had been in the middle of his machinations of Oswald’s downfall, so obviously nothing had ever come of it.

That must mean…

“In your apartment?” He tries to keep his voice neutral as he peeks over at Ed. His focus remains on his tinkering, but if Oswald leans forward just a bit more, he can spy the fond smile teasing his lips.

It’s reassuring that Ed is also capable of enjoying the fonder memories from their halcyon days. Oswald vaguely remembers the dinner they shared, seemingly all those years ago. To him, it’d just been one of many confined in that apartment.

_…Had it meant more to Ed?_

“Yes.” He chuckles slightly. “It was the first time I had spent the evening with someone.”

Oswald huffs a panicked laugh. “Well, there certainly wasn’t anywhere else I was going to be going…”

“We had Thai, didn’t we?”

“You’d recall more clearly than I,” Oswald states, unsure where this is going. “But yes, I believe we did.”

“Shame the place isn’t there anymore. Their coconut rice was good.”

“It was.”

Oswald is at a loss on what to add to the conversation. Thankfully, Ed appears to be done reminiscing, so Oswald swivels back around to face an empty desk. Save for the chocolate. Even if he had something to work on, he doubts he could focus now.

“Had you spent Valentine’s Day with anyone before?”

“…Ed?”

“It’s just a question.” Ed’s face isn’t visible, but the lines of his shoulders and back are rigid. Oswald feels as if they’re wading into incredibly dangerous territory. He can’t imagine why Ed’s asking, but answering him feels like a defeat.

He goes for a more neutral response, lest he somehow set the man off.

“Didn’t we agree the holiday was pointless?”

“Of course.” Ed’s voice is clipped. “Forget I asked.”

Oswald certainly can’t do that. He’s already doing everything in his power to quash the weak embers of hope struggling to catch flame in the bowels of his heart. There has to be another reason for these questions.

Oswald knows Ed. There’s always a reason.

He sits with it before coming to a decision. Despite his suspicions, Oswald surmises that answering him couldn’t be too detrimental. Ed’s already admitted to the same thing, so it’s not as if he could use it against him.

Plus, he’s aware of how much focus Ed could potentially lose if he’s distracted by an unanswered question. 

“No,” Oswald answers in the stilted silence. “I hadn’t spent it with anyone before. Just that time in your apartment.”

Ed hums in acknowledgment. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

“Like any other night. Though I must admit, the candy you brought back the following day made it even better.”

“I don’t think I’d ever seen you that excited,” Ed teases, turning to fully face Oswald. 

“I had a right to be,” Oswald says. He keeps his smile in check, though it’s becoming a losing battle as he watches Ed’s grow. “It tastes better on sale.”

Ed chuckles and Oswald can’t help but share in his mirth. Joviality is scarce between them, but it’s come easier and easier since the situation with Penn.

They stare at one another for a moment too long.

Oswald breaks first, returning to the nonexistent task at hand, despite feeling Ed’s continued gaze. Eventually, Ed returns to his work as well and Oswald is pleased to note that he’s absentmindedly picking at the lunch he’d brought him. Ed needs his assistance shortly after, and they work for some time before Oswald decides he does need to attend to other matters before the end of the day. He rises from his seat—leg protesting slightly—before turning to Ed to bid him farewell until tomorrow.

“Would you join me tonight?” Ed asks.

Oswald’s mouth gapes in shock. Ed rarely requests his company.

“For old time’s sake?” He tacks on quickly.

 _Oh_. He means for dinner. Because it’s—

Oswald should say no. He really, _really_ should refuse and not tease his heart with fanciful daydreams that his mind will surely produce in the hours between now and dinner.

But Ed looks so _hopeful_ —at least, Oswald believes it to be hopeful. He can’t assume that what he sees isn’t a projection of his own desires.

He does seem eager though. A reminder, almost, of the man he once was when Oswald first met him.

He’d shooed him away.

Strange how times have changed, and now Oswald is the one that has to restrain himself from keeping Ed’s company too often. It would take a stronger will than his to deny that company when it’s asked of him.

“Of course, old friend. I’ll be there.”

“Great! Eight o’clock?”

Oswald nods his agreement and slips out the door.

He can hardly bear to ask himself the question of ‘why?’ Why is Ed doing this? The sudden fixation on Valentine’s Day and the potential implications scare Oswald. They’d partnered up and mutually agreed to put the past behind them, and Ed doesn’t appear unhappy, so Oswald could presumably rule out some form of humiliation on his behalf. The most likely answer is that Ed simply views this as a socially acceptable and convenient way to request spending time with another person, and since Oswald is the only friend he really has, his choices are severely limited.

There is a third option, but that one frightens him most of all.

Or more so, the _imagined_ third option because Oswald cannot keep allowing his heart to dictate his thoughts. Not like this. Not with Edward.

So he does his best to put any speculation from his mind for the rest of the afternoon as he takes care of other affairs. It’s not until he’s making his way back to Ed’s hideout at the library—dressed in a cleanly pressed suit and a purple tie—that Oswald begins to fidget.

Putting on a fresh suit is something he’d do for any dinner appointment. There isn’t anything unusual about this.

But Ed’s put on a new suit, too.

Technically it’s one of his old ones, but it’s been some time since Oswald’s spotted him in anything but his coveralls.

And he does look breathtaking. As ridiculous as some of his accessories can be, green surely is his color.

“Oswald,” Ed smiles warmly at him. “I’m glad you could make it.”

A fresh blush rises to Oswald’s cheeks at the unabashed fondness written across Edward’s face. It’d be harder to brush this look off as something else.

Small flames from the many individual candles scattered across the room flicker and dance in the low light. Oswald’s logical side supplies that they’re necessary due to the lack of electricity across Gotham. His emotional side appreciates how romantic it looks.

 _Not that that means anything_.

The old Vera Lynn record playing in the background seems to disagree.

“I appreciate you having me.”

Oswald follows Ed to the table. The spread is simple and yet, despite the lack of resources, Ed has done an excellent job at making their two place settings appear refined.

His blush only deepens as Ed pulls out the chair for him.

It’s reckless, but perhaps he’ll allow Ed to lead tonight.

Perhaps…he’ll let Ed decide what is to become of them.

“I know spaghetti is simple,” Ed says as he slides into his chair opposite Oswald, “but my options were limited.”

“I’m more impressed that you found tomato sauce.”

Ed smiles, pleased. Bashful in a way that Oswald hasn’t seen in quite some time.

“I was also able to acquire us some wine.” Ed holds up two different bottles. “Preferences?”

Both labels have been dirtied and torn, but Oswald can discern that one is a Cabernet Sauvignon and the other a Zinfandel. Both excellent choices for their dish. Oswald decides on the lighter red to start.

Ed breathes out a laugh.

“I should have known.”

“What?”

“These two—well, not these _exact_ two bottles, but these were the two I was deciding between before I, uhm, missed dinner with you.”

A cold flash strikes across Oswald’s body.

Neither of them have dared bring up the topic of the missed dinner, nor made any allusion to _her_. Let bygones be bygones and simply attempt to make their way back to a relatively comfortable partnership. They weren’t supposed to discuss the past. The closest Oswald got was off-handedly admitting that he’d been a bad friend, but this feels too close.

Close in the way they used to be when they could talk about important things.

Closer than he anticipated Edward would have ever wanted again.

“Perhaps I should have gone with my instincts and chosen this one quickly.”

Oswald’s mouth falls open in shock for the second time that day. Ed pays him no mind as he opens the bottle and begins pouring them each a glass.

Oswald’s heart thumps wildly in his chest after Ed voices his tentative wish. To go back and arrive for the dinner that never was. To Oswald instead of Isabella. Back to when they were younger men and objectively more naïve.

Back to when they had no idea how much harm they could do to someone they claimed was their best friend.

Before Oswald understood what love truly was, and how much he would do for the one he claimed as his.

And he is nothing if not a man who learns from his mistakes.

“Perhaps,” he ventures carefully. “But why dwell on past occurrences? We’re here now, together, and stronger than ever for the men we’ve become.” Oswald raises his glass. “To the Riddler and the Penguin.”

Ed raises his own, his eyes sparkling. “To us.”

They clink glasses. Edward’s eyes don’t leave Oswald’s own as they each take a sip.

Fortunately—for Oswald’s sake—conversation turns to calmer waters as they eat their meal. Ed updates him on the sub’s progress and the approximated time left until they can depart Gotham’s shores. He goes off on a tangent about the diving mechanism he has to fine-tune before lauding his ability to make the sonar work. Oswald listens to it all. In turn, he later has his own rant about one of the lesser gangs failing to fall in line and the delicate plans he has for their leader.

It’s nice.

They may blame it on the wine later, but Oswald feels for the first time in a _long_ time that they are conversing away from the knife’s edge. They’d been progressing in the preceding months of this project, but tonight is special. He’s _missed_ talking to Edward in this way—minions, and even other so-called allies could never match the brilliance of his best friend.

With him, Oswald doesn’t feel so alone.

“Dance with me.”

Ed is up and out of his chair before Oswald can process the request. He still hasn’t processed it when he takes Ed’s hand mostly out of instinct.

Ed leads them to the center of the room and Oswald is suddenly unsure if this isn’t some elaborate ruse once again. It’s plenty more work than last time, but Ed’s never shied away from a difficult performance. As long as it brings Oswald to shame, nothing else matters. But when one of Ed’s hands finds its way to the small of his back, Oswald truly doesn’t know if he cares as long as he can have this moment.

He places his free hand on Ed’s shoulder, their other hands clasped together. The gentleness of their positions could kill him, and some part of his brain still hasn’t ruled out the possibility of this night ending with a knife in his back. 

Ed leads them in a small circle, shuffling their feet back and forth as they sway with the smooth sounds from the record player. In a not-so-subtle movement, Ed adjusts his grip and pulls Oswald closer, their hips and chests nearly touching.

It’s a move Oswald can’t help but question, but when he looks up to ask, he freezes. Ed is looking at him like he used to, but there’s a careful yet determined edge to it that’s new.

Oswald can’t look away.

He’s unsure how long they stand there staring at one another, dancing long forgotten.

Ed moves first. His face inches closer and he pulls Oswald flush against him.

But only just.

He’s waiting. Refusing to close that final gap between them. Yielding to Oswald.

Something Oswald should have done for Ed the first time around.

_But fortune favors the bold, and sometimes, She grants second chances._

Oswald meets Edward in an incredibly soft kiss. He shifts his hand from Ed’s shoulder to cradle his neck, but otherwise there isn’t much movement. They’re still much too hesitant for that kind of vulnerability.

But Oswald doesn't cherish the kiss any less.

It’s different from the daydreamed first kisses beside the fireplace or under the stars—full of wonder and pure devotion. Different still from the equally craved first kisses tainted with blood and anger and teeth.

It’s none of those things, and yet, at the same time, it’s all of them. With this kiss comes the knowledge that they are choosing one another despite everything.

Oswald can’t deny the beauty of that.

When they finally part, they do so with smiles on their faces and hope in their hearts.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Oswald.”

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some utterly gooey sweetness with these two and it's been a hot minute since I've written for them and I missed them <3 Comments and/or kudos are always loved and appreciated! ^_^


End file.
